


Fruity Pebbles

by T_Philips



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M, T the babysitter, cereal is important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_Philips/pseuds/T_Philips
Summary: Michael leaves Trevor in charge of three year old Tracey after realizing he is out of milk.





	

Trevor sits on the matted off grey colored carpet flooring in the living room, facing the front window of the run down mobile home owned by his running partner and his soon due wife with his second child rolling in her lower intestines. He picks at the matts surrounding him in the carpet, pulling at them and snapping them apart with his forefinger-- a distant thudding of quiet footfalls can be heard coming down the hallway behind him that belonged to his three year old niece, who had decided that sitting and bouncing on his knee wasn't good enough and wanted him to sit on the floor and watch her run as fast as her tiny feet could allow her. She lets out a playful yell and shows her first six teeth that she has grown in the short time of her life so far in a gleeful smile, throwing her arms up as to say "ta-da" and before Trevor could say anything she was off again with her blond hair flowing behind her. 

He was put in charge of the small girl after Michael had realized they had ran out of milk that morning and gave him the dozing girl to hold while he dashed to the store and Amanda slept in. Woken up from the three hours of sleep he got from the night prior by a ringing cellphone beside him in the back of a station wagon he had managed to hot wire and after bashing his head on the car ceiling as he tried to climb out, Trevor sped all the way to the house, parking the stolen vehicle several blocks away in the morning sun in favor to not having the cops sniffing their way to the mobile home where his running partner and his prized trophy wife lived. He had yet to do a single ounce of illegal substances before arriving to the household, and now sits while the first signs of withdrawal from not smoking up or shooting up for three days. His bones and joints ache and his eyes flick from the window to the girl who had stopped next to him. 

She tugs at his over grown, greasy hair on the back of his head to get his attention, whining momentarily when he doesn't look her way. The pulling of hair from his scalp grabs his attention and he snaps his face towards her, coming face to face with the blonde. He gently grabs her hand and pulls his hair from her grasp, "Hey, quit it. You know better."

She frowns and makes to grab at it again, but he grabs her hand again, holding it softly in his. "Hey! I told you not to do that. You pull mommy's hair?" 

"And did I not tell you not to lay a single hand on Tracey?" A voice comes from behind the girl and Trevor angles his eyes up to meet the face of a pregnant and pissed off Amanda. "Maybe she'd stop pulling it if you'd finally get a much needed hair cut. Mullets were so eighties anyway." She says, a hand rubbing the underside of her bulging stomach. 

Trevor scowls at her and rolls his eyes, "I ain't got time for a fu- dging lecture. I'm only here because you guys ran out of milk and Michael lost the last of his masculinity after scampering out the door to the store." 

Tracey turns and walks up to her mother, holding her arms up. "Mommy!" Her chirps, jumping up and down. 

Trevor smiles at her, eyes moving back to the window after Amanda scoops up the fussing child and wanders down the hall with her in tow. "And for the record, I would never lay a hand on Blondie." Trevor shouts over his shoulder at the retreating pregnant women, earning a scoff from her and a small giggle from the precious little girl she held. 

\--------

 

An hour later he is shook awake by his running partner after falling asleep with his head tilted back the cushion of the ragged couch. With a stiff neck he wolfs down a bowl of colorful pebbles cereal next to Tracey at the counter in the kitchen while Michael watches them both: one in annoyance and one in pure love. He pushes the bowl away from him after slurping the remains out of the bottom and Michael rolls his eyes at his display after he yawns like a lion and stretches out his arms to come crashing down on top of his forearms on the counter.

"You aren't teaching Tracey any manners by doin' that ya know, T." He says, grabbing the empty bowl and placing it in the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes. "Don't need a miniature Trevor runnin' rampant. Amanda already doesn't like you enough as it is." 

"Well, maybe little Blondie should have some fun sometimes, like eat ice cream for breakfast." 

The girl beside him perks up at the word of her favorite after dinner dessert with large eyes. "Ice cream?" She asks slowly, moving her head back and forth between the two men. 

"Sorry Trace, not till dessert. Don't listen to what Trev says." Michael replies.

Trevor places a hand over his heart with a mock look of pain, "Oh Mikey! You hurt me so!" He shouts, gaining the little girls attention. "You listen to ol' Trevy, don't cha, Doll Face?" 

The girl giggles as he leans towards her, "Don't cha?" He asks again, bringing his hands out in a threatening tickle like fashion. 

The girl giggles louder, turning away from him with a mouth full of cereal.

"I think you do!" He sings, reaching out to tickle her back. 

"T, com'n. Let her eat. She could choke!" Michael says, grabbing at him from across the counter. 

"Oh- I think she gets her gage reflex from you, Mikey." Trevor says, not thinking much of it, attention purely on the giggling girl with her cheeks full of cereal of all colors. 

"T! Leave her alone or just go!" 

"What?" 

"Ya know what, I've had enough of your carelessness. Just go." 

"You serious?"

"Go, T." 

Trevor's eyebrows scrunch together in anger, "Fine-" he growls, standing from his stool and adjusting his jacket. "You wanna treat me like shit after not seeing me for a week and watchin' your daughter- talk about setting examples." He says, venom lacing his words as he spits them across the counter. 

"Trevor, I swear to God-"

"What? You'll ring my neck? You're too predictable. I'd like to actually see you grow a pair and actually do it some day. But it looks like your pants aren't filled out yet, are they?" 

"Trevor!" Michael shouts, voice booming through the small home and starling the young girl beside the mangy drug abuser he called his best friend. 

The girls eyes shut and open with tears in the corner, lips pinching together and wiggling. Her face puckers and she lets out a wail, exploding Trevor's and her dads eardrums with its force and volume. Michael shoots a hard glare over the counter and flicks his head as a last warning to the man in front of him. Trevor scrunches the light blonde hair on the top of the crying girls head before turning and makes his way quickly out of the house and onto the street, still hearing the ringing in his ears from the wailing. He curses and punches the nearest object, which was the rusted mailbox that topples over from the hit, and dashes off towards his stolen vehicle with the crying of Michael's oldest child still going strong in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for reading. I'm open to requests!


End file.
